


Sorrow's Fall

by thatgirlbb



Series: When Rivers Rage and Rocks Grow Cold [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Advanced Arithmancy, Adventure, Arcane Artefacts, Corruption, Death Eaters, Gen, Magical Creatures, No Smut, POV Original Character, Wizarding Communities around the World, life debts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-04
Updated: 2016-10-04
Packaged: 2018-08-19 13:13:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8209792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thatgirlbb/pseuds/thatgirlbb
Summary: Fall 1987. Sirius Black is rotting in Azkaban. Severus Snape is struggling to live with his guilt. Remus Lupin is trying to heal broken bonds of friendship and that lying, thieving trickster Greene? Avery? Rivers? She's on her last quest following the whims of Nion's Compass. 'Tis the hymn to those for whom the war never ended.





	1. Albania

I.

Albania, October 1987.

The 'Lumëzi’ was just the way Io remembered it. The backside of the lodge hugged the steep rock wall of the canyon, not far from it the dark river flowed by in a lazy bend. Downstream it eventually became a power to be reckoned with, but this high up the river only ever carried more water than a streamlet around springtime, when the thaw set in. It was fall now.

The lodge was made of the same pale rock as its surroundings, so even without the muggle repellent charms it would have been hard to spot for anyone who didn’t know it was there. The muggles around here had all sorts of stupid superstitions about this area, believing the rocks would come to live if they were disturbed for example, so it was even more unlikely anyone would ever happen by.

Io stepped towards the massive door. It was freezing out here; the first snowfall loomed. The air was crisp in anticipation. With a last glance to the starless sky, Io entered.  

The interior had not changed much either, Io found. The walls of the vast room - magically enlarged, of course - were covered in dusty hides to both sides of the fireplace. Io knew that it was connected to a clandestine network that would make the Ministry’s toes curl. She steered towards the long wooden bar, passing several sturdy tables that were occupied by all sorts of low lives and shady characters. Nobody paid her any mind.

She stepped up looking for Xhavit. The old barkeeper stood a few paces to her right attending a bunch of shrouded witches, who were jabbering away in what sounded like a heavy Illyrian dialect. Impatiently Io tapped with her fingers on the uneven surface of the bar. However, she knew too well not to press Xhavit. He looked rather unimposing, but he was not a wizard to be underestimated; it might just be the last thing one did.

“Miss Greene,” Xhavit's familiar accent-free English drifted over to her. A toothless grin crossed over his wrinkled face as he stood in front of her. “The usual?”

Io nodded curtly and rubbed her cold hands. She always felt cold these days, as if the haunting sensation of the dementors followed her everywhere she went. A steaming cup appeared in front of Io and she gladly took a sip that warmed her to the core. With a comfortable sigh she untied the thick wool scarf from around her neck and shoved down the hood of her coat.

The deep-set eyes of Xhavit gleamed knowingly.

“What brings you around these parts? Business or leisure?”

Io smirked. _Leisure_. Like that was a thing.

Xhavit shook his head, as if that had been all the answer he needed. He turned towards the cabinet behind the bar and grabbed a pile of parchment, immediately putting it in front of Io. She raised an inquisitive brow as she went through the pile of correspondence and landed on a letter in a familiar yet unexpected handwriting.

“Someone has been looking for you.”

Io snorted. "I bet they have."

Xhavit’s gaze lingered upon her face speculatively. She looked up.

“When?”

“A fortnight or so.”

Io’s eyes dropped back to the letter in her hands.

“Scary fellow, made me look rosy in comparison.”

She nodded again. Xhavit took that as a hint and left her to it. After a moment Io made up her mind and stowed away the correspondence in the depths of her moleskin coat.

A hand slapped her shoulder jovially.

"Blimey, a compatriot! Fancy a drink, lass?”

With a glare Io turned toward the overfamiliar youngster next to her. The grinning ginger was barely of age and had all the air of a recent graduate looking for adventures in the real world. _Bloody Tourists_.

Her expression made him withdraw his hand and muss up his hair in embarrassment.

"Sorry there, got a little carried away, didn’t I?”

Io raised an unimpressed brow and waited. That should do it, she figured. But alas...

"So what about that drink then? Barkeep!”

Xhavit ignored him thoroughly. Good man, Io thought. But her patience was limited, more so on such a bloody cold night.

"Look, kid. Take that sodding butterbeer of yours and...” she suddenly stopped, as her eyes fell upon a familiar face in the crowd behind the Ginger. She raised her cup and drained it quickly, ignoring whatever nonsense the youngster was prattling about. Io had business to attend to.

Dragomir was a sleazy git of epic proportions and too dim to light an open field on a sunny day. Hadn’t she just walked up to him to settle that debt, or what? Before Io could even open her mouth, a wand was pointing at her throat and his - even more moronic, if possible - thugs had risen from their seats. The bar fell silent in an instant.

Io rose her hands in a universal gesture of surrender.

"Drago, sweetheart, get that thing away from me before someone loses an eye,” Io purred in her best impression of a bored housewife in heat.

"Where’s my money you tricky, little skank?”

"Hush now, love. I was just about to hand it to you, interests and all. Now be a darling and put. that. away.” Her voice had grown more severe towards the end.

Dragomir examined her doubtfully and withdrew his wand in increments.

"This better not be a trick.”

"You hurt my feelings,” the sarcasm was poignant, but nonetheless Io pulled a small leather pouch out of her coat and threw it over to one of his goons.

The heavy-set man took his time counting the money, even going as far as biting one of the galleons to make sure they were real. Io rolled her eyes. _Amateurs._

"'S all there,” he finally concluded. A warm smile spread across Dragomir’s face and he barked out a laugh.

"Greene, my sugar plum. Come here, you!” Before she knew what was happening to her, Dragomir had her in a bone-crushing hug and two wet kisses were planted on her cheeks.

After that little incident the evening turned out rather pleasant. Well, as pleasant as the company of boisterous Bulgarians could ever be. As it turned out they had rather worthwhile information about a certain area of this country that was the main purpose of her trip. It had only taken one glance at the 'Lumëzi’ for her to realize why the compass had brought her here. Apparently it was time to settle more than one debt.

Absentmindedly Io petted the silver compass in one of her many pockets. She had long given up on trying to make sense of why it was forging her fate the way it did. In fact, she had surrendered to it the moment she had gotten a hold of it; it was their only hope, after all. Now all she could do was trust that it would inevitably lead her the right way. If it didn’t take her there, it was not yet time to return to Azkaban.

* * *

 

Whenever Io was in the area she rented a chamber off of Xhavit’s squib sister Diellza. It was a testament to their long standing friendship that Xhavit let her stay there. Diellza was a fair bit younger than her brother, but looked the worse for wear. Her rheumatic limbs were crippled and she had always been a mute. So Xhavit had made sure to acquire as much protection for Diellza as lay in his power and that was saying something. In fact, their entire friendship was based on his acquisition of a certain dark artefact that now loomed over the entry door. Io shuddered when she thought of what would happen to an intruder.

It was fair to say Diellza's place was safer than any other, which let Io sleep better. Even though Albania was far off from the Ministry's jurisdiction and Io was hardly Britain's most wanted, good rest was hard to come by these days.

She scoffed at the thought of what had landed her at the odds with the Aurors. For once she had done the right thing, and look where that got her. Io, in general, had no illusions about what she was doing. She was certainly not the avenger of the wronged nor did she believe she was actually redistributing wealth, as some of her fellows liked to put it. No, she was a thief and as long as the pay was good she had no qualms about who the rightful owner of whatever her clients wanted was.

But just this once she had accepted marginal pay to redeem an object from the Malfoy estate. It hadn't been so much for the fact that the necklace had been stolen from her client in the first place but her marked disdain for Death Eaters who had gotten off easy that made her do it. She should have known that with the Minister in his pocket, the noxious sleazebag that was Lucius Malfoy would send the entire squadron into action.     

With a sigh, Io slumped down on the rustic bed. Dust rose in a flurry from the bedding. It smelled like lavender and mothballs. The dark carved wood of the walls had an eerie look to it and the amenities were as simple as they come. A jug of water and a deep bowl were set on the desk. Io scowled. She should hit up Marrakech after this and lay low for a while, Merlin knew she had the funds to do so. With a pang of guilty conscience, she was reminded of Sirius in his dingy cell. She sighed. A good shower would have to wait.

She took the pile of correspondence out of her coat and sifted through it. Coordinates and a code for object and pay from Borgin and Burkes. Some details on a cave in Western Mongolia from an informant. A request for a house call from a shop owner in Hamburg. When she couldn't put it off any longer she ripped open the letter from her old classmate.

_Jo,_

_I'm sure you've heard that Portius Wenlock passed a few months ago, although - considering your current situation - I reckon you might not know you were named in his will. Certainly the small amount of gold has been collected by the Ministry, or at least frozen with the rest of your assets. However, there is a pile of books and a pocket watch currently in my possession that belong to you._

_What with the new amendments to the Werewolf Registration Act, I believe it won't pose a difficulty for you to find me._

_I know we're not on the best of terms right now, but I hope that won't deter you. Portius held you in great esteem._

_Your friend,_

_Remus_

Io let her hand sink, suddenly exhausted. She had, of course, heard of their beloved Arithmancy professor's passing and it still hurt to think about him. If only Io had visited him more often, or at least written to him. She couldn't even go see him in St. Mungo's, without risking her arrest.

 

She had also heard of the growing paranoia of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, rounding up half-breeds and werewolves alike. If there was one thing Io was certain of, then it was that the downfall of wizarding society wouldn't come from a new dark lord but a bureaucrat in a tweed jacket.

She got up and poured some water into the bowl to wash her face. Putting her glum thoughts aside, she stripped down and went to bed. It was time to rest now, tomorrow there would be work to do.

* * *

 

For all that Diellza's place was lacking in luxury, the food was worth putting up with it. Bread fresh from the oven, the soft cheese Diellza made herself and the cucumbers she raised in her garden - which remained, unlike the harsh climate of the surroundings, in perpetual spring - were a testament to the gods. While Io gulped down as much as she could eat, Diellza sat there with a bright smile and patted her hand, at ease with the world.

When Io stepped outside, she was greeted by a frosty gale, that almost made her turn around and defect from her mission. With grumbling determination, she apparated a few miles south.

At once she knew that she wasn't welcome here. The fringe of the forest had the feel of a place touched by dark magic, black pines looming threateningly. It was however the eerie silence that kept Io from stepping closer. She frowned, then she raised her wand and uttered a series of spells.

"Aparecium!" This somewhat basic spell to reveal that which is hidden from the naked eye yielded no results, but that was to be expected. Whatever was going on with this forest, it would take other means to discover.

 

"Homenum Revelio!" This one turned out more ambiguous. It should pick up on any wizard's presence, but all Io could sense were faint traces. Her mind raced. Maybe they had obscured their aura and done a sloppy job? Unlikely. Maybe they had left a lasting impression on their surroundings? That was an unsettling thought.

 

Io closed her eyes and focused on the next spell, which was infinitely more difficult. It should permit her to see the traces of magic worked on the woods, but it was a much larger area than the kind the spell had been originally designed for.   

"Aura Peior Adclaro!"

A faint glowing array of strings started to entwine the trees, from their roots to the tops until Io could see a thick web of powerful magic. Her eyes widened. The structure of defensive spellwork was set into the thick vegetation and had become bonded to the trees' nature. This place was seriously bad news.

 

Io braced herself and pointed the wand onto herself. She decided on a useful spell to conceal one's aura, that hopefully would make it impossible to detect her.

"Arbiter Obscuro!"

The familiar bristle of the runes on her skin comforted her. There really was no point in applying protective spells, they would be useless for what she had discovered about those woods. She only hoped she had concealed herself well enough to be granted safe passage. With a sense of foreboding she stepped forward and entered the forest.

Her light-footed steps and shallow breaths were the only sound that accompanied her. She tried to imagine what this place might have been like before. Untouched by humans, it should have been idyllic. The further she got, the denser the thicket became. Although it wasn't even noon yet, the ample treetops absorbed the light, so that hardly a ray ever found its way to the ground.

_Intuor!_ She didn't dare utter the word out loud and so relied on her abilities to work wordless magic. Luckily, her wand obliged and pointed her to the right direction, following the stream of evil to its source.

After what felt like an eternity her sense of unease suddenly surged. This was it, she realized as she stepped into a clearing. Unnatural mist wobbled around the mossy ground, turning the site into an otherworldly place. Io stopped and looked around. The mist was the thickest around a dead fir tree. She held her breath. Something had occurred to her.

With a strained movement of her wand she focused on the spell and sighed in relief as she felt the bubble-head charm wrap itself around her mouth and nose.

She crept forward, trying not make a single noise, and stopped a few steps from the dead tree. After some calming breaths she focused on the aura detection charm, but nothing happened. Io stifled a huff of frustration. She should have worked harder on her wordless magic.

"Aura Peior Adclaro!", she uttered and saw the spell work its magic. Anxiously she waited for the defences of the place to attack her, but nothing of that sort happened. She sighed in relief and examined what her magic had revealed.

 

A tight-knit web of spell work surrounded the tree stump, converging on a hole near the bottom. Some of those spells she knew and they were pure evil, poisoning the very essence of things to their core, others she didn't, which could only mean would do even worse. The glowing lines of the spells were intricately interwoven. If one them were set off, the others were going to follow in a cascading rhythm. Only a master Arithmancer could ever dream of realizing such a masterpiece. If it hadn't been for the horrific nature of the spells, it would have been a sight of beauty.

 

She focused on the hole. The web showed nothing but a lingering trace of something powerful having rested there. So Dumbledore had been right in his suspicion.  

 

"Aparecium!" Although she was now certain that the diadem wasn't there, she still had to check. Edging closer, she raised her wand for a simple Lumos. Then all hell broke loose.

A powerful gale rose from the ground, almost knocking Io down and a piercing shriek issued from the dead tree. She pressed her hands to her ears and noticed too late, that her bubble-head charm had dissolved. The mist rose and swallowed her.

A flash of darkness, so profound it felt as though it engulfed all of Io’s being, descended upon her. All the memories, sweet and bitter, all hopes, however deeply buried, were touched and twisted. The agony was beyond her comprehension. She toppled over, longing for the quick release of death, as she started to sweat blood. Streams of the heavy red liquid clouded over her eyes. Here she was, in the land where she had been born. Only fitting that here she would die.

The deep dark forest stood silent, not a care for its child moved its leaves. It had been violated, twisted, corrupted to maim and hurt those who would dare wander among its roots and mosses. And maim and hurt it did.

With the last ounce of strength Io could muster, her numb fingers fumbled for the compass.   More than ever she longed desperately to go home. When the familiar jerk behind her chest pulled her forward, Io found solace in the thought that perhaps she wouldn’t be as lonely in death as in life.

A flurry of sounds and light tore at her senses. Io saw herself from afar, toeing the abyss, waiting to go under, but something was pulling her the other way.

“Stay with me,” a stern voice told her, fraying at the edges, “Stay.”

* * *

Severus settled down in the chair by the fireplace. He noticed his bloodstained hand was still shaking. Irritated, he willed himself to calm down and assess the situation. The cup of tea he had been about to enjoy was still waiting on the coffee table. With a flick of his wand he warmed it and took a sip that burnt his tongue.

The blood-soaked body of his former classmate lay lifeless on the settee, except for a weak pulse and the hardly noticeable up and down of the chest. She would survive, for now. He had made sure of halting the dark curse draining her from the inside out.

How on earth had Ionia come here? And why? They had not seen each other for... almost ten years, Severus realized. There was only one person he could think of that would be able to traverse the ancient wards of the castle. Had Dumbledore sent her? Severus frowned. That seemed unlikely.

The only sensible thing would be to send for the headmaster. Then why did he feel a gnawing doubt in the pit of his stomach?

As he raised the hot cup of tea to his lips once more, he noticed something in the corner of his eye. A faint blue glint had started to radiate from Io’s skin. Severus got up and moved closer. He instantly knew that this was not the work of the Dark Arts.

With one hand he pulled up the sleeve of her soiled robe. Severus gasped. Her skin was densely covered with runes that appeared to shine from within. A flood of thoughts washed over his mind. He didn’t dare touch the symbols. Instead he settled on feeling her pulse. It was growing stronger by the minute.  

* * *

 

Io’s eyes flew open. They found a stone ceiling. She tried to turn her head and gasped from the pain. Her entire body was sore.

This shouldn’t be such a familiar experience, Io thought wryly.

“You have woken,” a voice sounded nearby.

She tried to search for the person it belonged to. It sounded vaguely familiar.

“Severus?”

The face of her former classmate appeared next to her, drawn in an unreadable expression.

“I gather you were not expecting me?”

Instead of answering, Io glanced around. The architecture of the study reminded her of the Slytherin dungeons. Was she at Hogwarts? Io frowned, trying to put together the pieces of the puzzle that had landed her here. _Oh._ The compass was never one to bore.

Her eyes flitted back to Severus. He’s changed, she thought suddenly. The dark eyes and sharp edge of his nose were there, the scowl as distinct as ever, but somehow he appeared... worn. Life-worn, war-worn? A sad realization hit her. _Lily_.

Severus drew a chair closer to the settee and sat down.

“Would you care to explain how you’re alive?”

Io raised a brow at his question. Her raspy voice only managed a whisper in return.

“I believe you had something to do with that.”

Severus nodded curtly and handed her a goblet, “Drink.” He settled back in his chair and scanned her with a piercing gaze, measuring his words.

“A curse of such potency has not been heard of since the descent of the Dark Lord and very few people who have encountered it live to tell. Now colour me impressed that not only have you come across such dark magic, but managed to break through century old spells and wards in your quest for help.”

His dark eyes were gazing deeply into Io’s, measuring her. She held his gaze, warily clearing her mind. After a moment, he looked away.

“I have not poisoned it.” Severus pointed to the untouched goblet in her hand.

Io took a small gulp and grimaced. Whatever it was, it tasted like foot. After a few more gulps, she turned back to him and sighed, searching for the right thing to say.

“The war is not over for some of us,” she whispered. Her mouth set into a joyless smirk.

Some emotion flickered over Severus’ face, but it was gone before Io could tell what it had been. She tentatively moved her hand and touched his.

“It is good to see you,” Io said, a little louder. Both knew her words rang with a lot of things left unsaid.

Severus moved his hand to hold hers. She gave it a squeeze.

“Sorry I’m not wearing my Sunday’s best.” She motioned toward her blood-stained clothes with a more earnest grin.

A smile tore at Severus’ lips. “You never had a sense of appropriateness.”

* * *

 

Severus hunched over the big cauldron, adding the final ingredient of powdered doxy feathers. Then he gradually abated the flames, until the potion was at a gentle simmer. Now he would have to wait for a day until he could bottle it and restock his healing cabinet. He was all out of blood replenishing solution, courtesy of his unexpected guest.

Io was resting again. Severus' brows furrowed in worry. She should have been able to get up by now. His mind wandered to the sudden arrival of his blood bathed friend, writhing in pain on his oriental rug, effectively ruining it in the process. When he had realized that she was covered in her own blood, his heart had missed a beat.

The two of them had not departed on good terms 10 years prior. In fact, he recalled, Io had spat in his face. He recoiled at the memory. Severus was a proud man, but sometimes he couldn't help but wish she had done worse.

He shook off the unpleasant memories and left the room. Io needed to get up and eat something.

When he entered the study soon after with some broth the house elves had provided, he stopped short. Io had left. On the settee lay a folded note, atop of a sealed letter. He took the note and read.

_Bona fide, Sev._

In good faith.

Not the most heartfelt letter of gratitude could have given him a similar feeling of joy and relief. Overwhelmed by the onslaught of emotions, he had to sit down. Severus hadn't thought himself capable of such depth of emotion anymore. Not with the war, not with Lily gone.

Severus wiped at his eyes and took a deep breath, slowly regaining composure. His glance fell on the letter still laying atop the blood smeared piece of furniture. It was simply addressed to 'A.D.'

He knew what he had to do.

Dumbledore was already expecting him. When Severus landed at the top of the stairs to the headmaster's study the door stood open and Dumbledore turned around with a knowing smile.

"I see your guest has left."

Severus wasn't surprised that Dumbledore knew. In fact, he would be surprised if anything went on in the castle that he wasn't aware of. Severus simply nodded and handed over the letter.

Dumbledore's gaze lingered on Severus' carefully guarded face. He caressed the seal with a thumb and the letter opened. The piece of parchment unfolded itself and Dumbledore turned his eyes to the writing. Severus watched his expression change as he read.

With a heavy sigh he put it down into a silver dish. Severus couldn't help but look at the few sentences written in Io's slanted handwriting.

 

_It has been removed, as you suspected._

_There's very little doubt as to by whom._

 

_My debt is settled._

__I._ _

 

 

There was a postscript there, but before Severus could read it, the letter had gone up in flames.

 

So Dumbledore had sent her on a mission? Ionia Rivers - a pawn in the game? What kind of debt could she have had that would send such a self-serving person into a suicide mission? It dawned on Severus that he knew a lot less about his former friend than he had presumed.  

"How long?", Dumbledore asked quietly, looking out the window over the vast expense that were the Hogwarts grounds.

Severus knew immediately what he meant. The dark curse that had hit Io the deepest was still clawing its way through her system. Although he had been able to slow it down, it would eventually succeed. Whatever purpose Dumbledore had had for her information, Severus hoped it was worth dying for.

"Maybe a year."

Dumbledore nodded wistfully.

"She doesn't know," Severus added.

"It's probably for the better," Dumbledore replied after a while. Severus grimaced at that notion.

"How is that better?"

Dumbledore turned his head. He looked sad. Somehow that was startling.

"Hope drives everything, Severus. It would be cruel to take that away from someone who's holding on to it like a lifeline."

Severus shook his head, pushing down the anger rising in his chest. _Hope. Love._ It all came down to misery in the end. He turned to leave, when something occurred to him.

"Do you have any idea how she got into the castle?"

To his surprise, the headmaster chuckled.

"Many, Severus, each of them as unlikely as the next."

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title is borrowed from the poem "The Nymph's Reply to the Shepherd" by Sir Walter Raleigh, much like the title "When Rivers Rage and Rocks Grow Cold" of the series. Also, the last line in this chapter is a quote from The Prisoner of Azkaban.
> 
> Glossary:
> 
> Nion's Compass = A famed artefact long believed to be lost, that exhibits extraordinary powers in transporting a wizard from one place to another, regardless of distance or wards in place to prevent apparition. It is however highly temperamental and never bows to a wizard's will. Rather it takes them wherever it believes they should be going.
> 
> It is made of silver, approximately 50 mm wide and 10mm thick. The compass rose is blue ink on white parchment, magically protected to withstand the wear of time. The centre of it shows a triskelion, a celtic symbol. Its silver needle does not indicate north and south, but Alpha and Omega. On its backside three words are engraved in gaelic: An láthreacht Dé which translates to The Presence of God.
> 
> Portius Wenlock = The Arithmancy professor during the Marauder Era at Hogwarts. Last descendant of the renowned Wenlock family whose members had been some of the most influential arithmancers of their times. Portius Wenlock remained a role model and dear friend during Ionia's adult life.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Thanks for reading.


	2. Morocco

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A glossary with the names of magical artifacts, potion ingredients etc. can be found at the end of the chapter.
> 
> MissMooToYou once again was willing to betaread - Thank You! All remaining mistakes are my own.

II.

Marrakech, November 1987.

Io shivered. She gazed out onto the sun-washed patio surrounded by beautiful ochre stone arches. The palm trees in their midst had no complaints, relishing in the warm fall air of a place where it never really got cold.

It was the busiest season in wizarding Marrakech. The sub-saharan and middle eastern trade routes converged here with the harvests of opium poppy, Demiguise pelts*, Syrian rue*, Erumpent exploding fluid*, Danagadas* and most importantly Saffronore* to be later sold for up to 10 times the purchase price in the European capitals. A potioneer would have to be a moron not to make the trip and buy those items at cost.

That suited Io just fine. Easier to hide in plain sight, when the tea houses and market places were packed with clueless foreign wizards, who would buy manatee fat for the triple price and feel like they'd made a great deal.

Io tugged at her caftan and scarf, hoping for it to miraculously provide more warmth once rearranged. Io had never been the most patient, but whatever patience she had had, was wearing thin. Aqil was late. Again.

Io got up. She might as well move around, damn that moroccan sense of time. She left a few Dirham on her table for the saccharine tea and was about to move to the patio, when someone called her name.

"Grini!"

Io froze. That was certainly not Aqil's voice. This didn't bode well, last rumour of her location was Hong Kong, she had made sure of that. She gripped her wand tightly and slowly turned her head.

Now that was just _perfect_.

A few steps away from her, a small group of wizards was about to take seat around an ornate hookah. At first glance she knew they were merchants, but only one face was familiar.

It was Maria Ortiz Espina, a tenacious elderly witch who happened to control the western mediterranean trade of Saffronore.

Io hadn't seen her in years, however Maria didn't have the sort of face one could easily forget. It was pleasant enough in a way, fine lines in the olive toned skin around her mouth and dark eyes hinted at the old age that the silver hair confirmed. She was clad in the local garments of choice; caftan, an embroidered vest and a soft silk scarf loosely covering her hair, all of it obviously quite expensive.

Something about her had always bothered Io, although she couldn't put a finger on it.

Maria, more commonly known as Espina, or _thorn_ , and Io had not parted on the best of terms last time they met. There had been a… minor misunderstanding about her pay.

Io sighed. Bloody compass. She could see a pattern emerging.

"Maria! What a wonderful surprise."

They exchanged their pleasantries and Maria invited her to join them, her tone making quite clear that this was not an offer Io should decline.

She introduced her company as merchant Abu Talib Gorakhpurwala and his son Yaghoub from Iran, renowned Ethiopian potioneer Zema Einku Tamrat and local herbologist Brahim Mansouri before turning back to Io.

"An this is my dear friend, Miss Io Grini from Bretaña. Grini is quite the accomplished … - _¿Cómo se dice?*_ \- purveyor of arcana arthifacts, I 'av to add."

"You are too kind."

Io took a seat on one of the plush cushions around the low table.

"Grini has run into some unfortunate trouble with the Orors, isn't that so?"

Io schooled her face into a neutral mask. She knew for a fact that Maria had her own frequent disagreements with the Ministry's legislations, usually to be resolved by exchange of a fat pouch of galleons.

"A misunderstanding. It will be resolved in no time."

Maria gave her a warm smile, that was not quite honest.

"Oh, good to 'ear. So.. 'ow was 'Ong-Kong? Fascinating place, I assum."

Io returned a frosty smile. So that was how they were going to play. Allright.

"Crowded."

Maria's eyes were glinting with barely-contained amusement.

Io turned to the Ethiopian witch. "Miss Tamrat, it's an honour to meet you. I hear you're about to have a breakthrough with the Dhahaviringi Potion*?"

As it turned out the potion was indeed the reason for their meeting. The Gorakhpurwala family was one of the few suppliers of occamy egg shells* in the western hemisphere and Brahim Mansouri grew grade A saffronore in a heavily-guarded untraceable location.

The conversation soon evolved into a scholarly discourse about the intricacies of brewing and harvesting of plants with magical properties, which to be honest, went over Io's head.

She sipped at some more tea and wondered where in Merlin's name Aqil was. A quick Tempus charm showed her that he was already two hours late. That was tardy, even by Aqil's standards.

"Ar we keepin you, ma dir?", Maria inquired.

"Not at all."

Maria shot the others a meaningful glance and got up.

"¿Nos excusan?* I need to discuss something with ma dir friend." She bowed her head apologetically toward her guests and bode Io to follow her.

"It's been a pleasure," Io directed to the illustrious round and followed Maria to the patio.

They walked in silence for a bit, Maria stopping once in awhile to greet someone.

"Your friend won't come."

Io looked up, intrigued. She knew it! So the accent was a ploy. Io could see how that might work to a merchant's advantage though. But why drop it now? Maria laughed quietly, when she noticed Io's expression.

"Oh my dear, you've still plenty to learn."

Maria turned around another stone arch and walked down a passageway half hidden behind thriving plants in bloom. Io followed hesitantly, gripping her wand tightly.

"Come now, it's not me you should worry about," she added, not unkindly.

Io wasn't so sure. But she figured she might as well go along with it and see what the old hag wanted. Maybe Io was getting reckless, knowing that she had a safe option to get out of there anytime; the comforting weight of the compass in her robes a constant reassurance.

Maria hurried on and led Io through a myriad of small hidden passages. The busy sounds of street merchants and tea houses died down until all Io could hear were their steps on the stone floor. They arrived at a large carved wooden door, guarded by a hooded man.

When he saw Maria, he opened the door and stepped aside. Maria led Io further through a dark hall until they entered a large sun-lit room. Io looked around, impressed.

They were inside a luxurious study. The walls were covered in intricately woven carpets that showed mythical beasts and magical flora. Lush velvet cushions were grouped around a round silver table in one corner, surrounded by silk drapes. Right in front of one of the huge curved windows was a large mahogany table.

Mario stepped up to the table and took off her scarf with a sigh. Without further comment, she clapped her hands and a servant hurried inside with a tea service.

"At the desk will be fine, love."

She took a seat and indicated Io to do the same at the other side. The servant set up the tea and immediately left. Io was surprised to smell the distinct odour of Earl Grey.

Maria shut her eyes and sighed wearily for a moment. When she opened them again, all fatigue was gone.

"You've got yourself in quite some trouble."

Io raised a brow and simply waited, secretly clutching the compass in her robes. Maria measured her lack of response and pressed on.

"At this very moment sweet Aqil will either have sold you out or paid with his life for some misplaced loyalty."

What? But who...? Why?

Io's mind started racing. Had she inadvertently pissed someone off in the past 48 hours? Because who else could have known about her whereabouts? She herself hadn't known two days ago that she would end up in Morocco.

Maria took her cup of tea and raised it to her lips. But instead of drinking, she frowned.

"This doesn't seem to bother you much."

Io swallowed. She was never one to underestimate reckless stupidity, not after growing up with… No. This wasn't the right moment to think about _him_. But Aqil on the other hand was neither noble nor reckless. She liked that about him.

"He will have done the smart thing."

Maria nodded thoughtfully, cup still in her hands. Io eyed her own cup of tea suspiciously and decided not to take chances. Instead she watched as Maria took a sip and suddenly scowled.

"Hospitality dictates but to be quite honest, I hate tea."

Io smiled despite herself and shook her head at the sheer absurdity of the situation. Maria scrutinized her and the pause lengthened.

Mind games. Don't fall for that, _Grini_.

But after awhile she had enough. Patience simply wasn't her strong suit.

"I assume you haven't brought me here to discuss _sweet Aqil's_ fate. This isn't still about those bloody moonstones, is it?"

At this Maria guffawed.

"Oh, to be young again. No, it's certainly not."

Another pause.

Maria measured her words thoughtfully.

"It has come to my attention that you've had a recent lapse in judgement, does that ring a bell? Accepting marginal pay for a _recovery_ mission? No?"

This time she didn't wait for a response, instead Maria opened a desk drawer and retrieved a small velvet pouch. She promptly opened it and an old, tinged dagger blade dropped onto the mahogany surface.

There was no doubt about it. It was the Phillipian Dagger*, or to be precise, its blade. The exact item Io had, several months ago now, retrieved from the Malfoy estate and handed back to its previous owner.

"How did you…"

"Mr. Vaughan had to sell this precious item in order to guarantee the safety of his family. Now I don't have a particular interest in this piece, you see. And frankly neither does Mr. Malfoy."

So why…

Maria seemed to interpret her silence as doubtful.

"Oh please what use could I have for a dagger that turns on the assassin? Such barbaric trickery. No, no. It is rather the circumstances of its disappearance that have me intrigued, and I believe that might well be the reason why this place is swarming with hired Hit Wizards."

"You're kidding." Io's eyes flew to the windows. Suddenly she felt way too exposed sitting so close to them.

Maria sighed, a half-smile curling at the corners of her mouth.

"You're quite safe, my dear." She gestured lazily toward the windows. "Those are invisible to the outside world. One would need rather more skilled goons than the ones Lucius hired to find you here."

"Oh, you're on a first name basis then?", Io challenged. It sounded a lot braver than she felt.

"Sweetheart, I'm on a first name basis with anyone of importance."

"So what do you want?"

Another pause.

Io was growing seriously tired of it all, the tooth-decaying sweetness, the bloody teacups and those measuring stares.

"Come on, you haven't brought me here to serve me some tea you loathe and chat about what _Lucius_ has been up to lately. Just tell me what you want."

Maria gave her a frosty smile.

"Alright, then." Maria reached for another drawer and took out a sealed scroll.

"I would like you to get a hold of something for me."

She handed Io the scroll and waited.

Io opened the seal with her wand and looked inside. Coordinates and description of an object. A coin, apparently. Io frowned. Those coordinates looked familiar.

Then it came to her - they were the exact same ones she had just received a few weeks ago from her contact at Borgin and Burkes. A trap?

She looked up.

"How much?"

This time, Maria didn't smile.

"Safe passage."

Io was about to protest, when Maria interrupted her.

"Safe passage and the goons will be gone."

Io huffed.

"And if I don't?"

Maria simply smiled.

Right then she realized what it was, that had always been bothering her about Maria: her eyes never smiled along with the rest of her face.

* * *

Eastern Czechoslovakia, November 1987.

Man, she hated muggles.

No wait, that didn't come out right. More like… she hated people. Yeah.

Io had landed in a pile of rubbish. And it was cold. And it smelled bad. Bad as in standing in a pile of rubbish in some forsaken slum in bloody Slovakia bad. Right now Io couldn't give less of a fuck where exactly, although a muggle might have easily pointed out the obvious to her: a landfill.

She trudged through several layers of snow covered rubbish bags, old mattresses and rotten food before she remembered that she was in fact not a muggle and apparated.

Io reappeared a few hundred yards north and took a deep breath. It was still cold, but the smell was now bearable and her feet were standing on solid ground.

She looked up. In the distance several rows of high rise concrete buildings rose from the ground. It looked desolate, even at night.

"Intuor!" Her wand pointed towards the archetonic nightmare in front of her.

Figures.

She debated whether she should take precautions, and if so, which kind. She settled on some basic concealment and inaudibility.

"Arbiter Obscuro!", she uttered. Better safe than sorry.

Io put the wand away and went straight ahead. She couldn't help but wonder what kind of wizard would settle down around here, of all places.

The kind who hoarded precious coins apparently.

She forged ahead through the frost crisp grass and soon came close to the first buildings of the borough. The usual noise of human presence was there alright. However something was amiss. Io scanned her surroundings. There was light behind several windows, but no living soul in the streets. Well, it _was_ bloody cold out here, even though it wasn't that late.

Then she realized what had startled her. All signs of human presence were limited to the higher storeys. She directed her wand at the ground floor right in front of her.

"Homenum revelio!"

She was right. There was nobody in there.

Her mind told her to dismiss it. So people were afraid of burglars, so what. But all her senses were alert. She crept closer and directed her wand to one of the entrances.

"Aura Peior Adclaro!" It was only a whisper, but it suddenly sounded too loud to her ears.

The familiar glowing web of magical presence started to spread, but what it showed was entirely unexpected. There were protective enchantments alright, powerful ones at that. But none of them were geared towards wizards…

Io froze. Some rotten smell penetrated her nostrils, making her sick to the stomach. Io covered her mouth, gasping. What in Merlin's name…

Then she heard it. A feral growl right behind her.

Io jumped, wand drawn.

"Stupefy!"

She saw the beast, entirely unimpressed by her magic. It had a big snout akin to a bear but it's body was amorphous, constantly moving as though it consisted of smoke. Its white eyes gleamed terrifyingly as it moved closer.

In a split-second decision Io leapt out from under the entryway and directed her wand at the concrete ceiling above the beast.

"Reducto!"

Without looking back she darted forward, away from the monster. An angry roar followed behind her, she ran and suddenly came to a halt when she found the beast was right in front of her, closing in.

How was that even possible?

Io's eyes darted around. Where to? She had to focus in order to apparate.

The beast crept closer and the foul smell grew more intense. Io couldn't think.

So she went with a hunch.

"Incencaedio!" A thin hot flame flew from her wand's tip like a whip. The beast withdrew and growled angrily. It dematerialized in front of her eyes.

Then a roar sounded right behind her.

Son of a-

Io jumped around and lashed out with the fiery leash of her wand as the beast leapt forward in attack.

"Lumos maxima!" A man's sonorous voice cut through the night.

Just as the beasts horrid fangs were about to land on her neck, it dissolved in the blinding light.

Io looked up, panting. She could only make out the outlines of various figures in the glaring light, but one thing was for sure: she was surrounded.

Io scrambled backwards, still panicked, when she felt two large hands grabbing her shoulders and helping her up.

The man before her was huge. Green eyes stood out from his dark skin, framed by thick dark hair and beard. He was talking to her, but she didn't understand a word.

"What was that thing?!"

The man smiled and replied in English, a very slight accent somehow softening his words.

"Come. It is not safe."

She looked around, the other men around her alternately holding wands or torches. They seemed nervous, checking their surroundings.

Io nodded quickly and followed them to one of their ghastly concrete houses.

* * *

The insides of Pitti's home, which turned out to be the name of her saviour, was surprisingly cosy, if a bit overcrowded. The news of Io's arrival had spread like fiendfyre and more and more visitors were dropping by.

She sat on an old bench covered in furs. On the wall behind her a colourful loose-knit carpet was hung, that isolated her back from the cold concrete. A few younger women were busying themselves around a stove and some of the men had taken place around her, drinking liquor and smoking pipes.

The rest of the crowd was hovering near the entrance, craning their necks to get a closer look.

A particularly nosy little girl crept up to touch Io's robes. When Io noticed her, she squealed in delight and darted back to her little friends. Pitti patted her head to mollify his apparently disapproving words.

"We do not get many visitors around here", he explained to Io with a rueful smile.

The woman next to her passed Io a glass with what smelled like strong liquor. Io took a deep gulp to calm her nerves. The liquor reminded her of the plum brandy that was so popular on the balkons, however it was sweeter and had a smoky flavor to it. It was delicious.

Pitti introduced her as his wife Ema. Io gave her a grateful smile. Ema appeared happy to accommodate their guest and hurried off to help with the cooking.

Pitti took seat across from Io. That was when she noticed it, the coin she was supposed to nick dangling from his neck. Pitti noticed her stare, but didn't comment on it.

"Pitti? What was that out there?"

Pitti regarded her thoughtfully.

"It is the thing that crawls in the night. We do not speak its name."

"Oh." Now that was specific.

Io took another sip.

An elder man walked up to Pitti and whispered something emphatically.

Pitti nodded his head thoughtfully and turned toward Io.

"We need to go." Without further explanation, he got up.

They walked along various floors busy with people. Io noticed that there were no front doors to the housing units, but rather a steady stream of people leaving and entering.

In one room a group of witches was gathered around a hearth, probably brewing a potion while some children watched and gave them a hand. In another room some men were deboning fish, while in yet another a few older girls were showing younger ones how to weave a carpet by hand.

They passed two youngsters carrying construction material downstairs, led by a man armed with his wand. Io turned and looked after them, when she realized where they were headed. She had inadvertently blown up one of their entryways.

The patchwork of different labours surprised Io. Why would they do all that by hand?

Then it hit her.

"Are those Muggles?"

Pitti raised a brow.

"Muggles?"

"Erm, non magical folk?"

"Oh, yes. No magic."

Io knit her brows. She had never seen such a thing. Well, it was not entirely unheard of, supposedly some aboriginal folks down under had similar arrangements. But on the outskirts of a Czechoslovakian town? Must be that… what did the Muggles call it? Communist idea?

"This surprises you?"

Pitti was searching for the right words.

"It is better. We need to protect our own, you see?"

He gestured toward another room they were approaching and stopped there.

Inside was a young wizard painting colourful symbols into the air around a group a children. They were pointing them out and naming them as best as they could.

"If you are gifted you help."

Io looked up to her companion. He seemed content. She suddenly felt a slight tinge of shame. Merlin knew what he would think about the way Io used her "gift".

"Come now."

They entered a room a few doors down, that was packed with, mainly elderly, people. He led Io through the crowd to where an ancient woman in a billowy white robe was seated. He knelt down in front of her and signaled Io to do the same, who was shocked by the strong magical presence emanating from the old woman.

The witch was tiny and wore a long plait of white hair to her hip. Two dark eyes peered out of her sweet, wrinkly face and first regarded Pitti with fondness before moving on to Io.

Her eyes were piercing Io's, who suddenly felt naked. This wasn't Legilimency though, Io was sure she would have caught that.

The old witch suddenly raised a stubby little wand that looked more like a bird's bone than wood and drew a circle above Io. A line of blue light hovered above here before it dispersed slowly, forming various little moving figures. Io tried to recognize what they were, but the light was gone before she could figure them out.

When the old woman spoke, Io was surprised to find her voice not brittle with age, but a deep melodious alto. She had idea what the other woman was saying, but it obviously meant something to the rest of the room.

Io could feel all eyes on her. She was growing really nervous until she noticed that none of their looks appeared hostile but rather… reverent? That couldn't be right.

She looked over to Pitti who bowed his head respectfully. That only aggravated her confusion. She looked back to the ancient one, who chuckled in amusement.

The old witch gestured toward a middle-aged man beside her to pass her something, which turned out to be a small leather bowl. The old woman took a sip from the bowl and promptly passed it to Io, encouraging her to drink.

It tasted like very sweet milk. She was then made to understand that she was supposed to pass the bowl along. When the chatter around her picked up again, Io felt relief wash through her. She had somehow passed the test.

The rest of the evening passed rather pleasantly. Plenty of fragrant food was handed out and more of that tasty liquor. She learned that Pitti had spent time as a young man with relatives in America before coming back to support their community, same as plenty of the other wizards had done across Europe. They frankly knew more about the goings-on in Wizarding Britain than Io could safely say she knew about wizarding life in the Soviet Union or as it turned out Romani wizards.

When Io simply couldn't suppress her yawns anymore, Pitti took her back to her bed for the night. As it turned out Pitti and Ema yielded their own bed and wouldn't take no for an answer.

If they all had conspired to kill Io's nefarious intents with kindness, they had made a strong case. Before her head even hit the pillow, she was fast asleep.

* * *

Io woke before sunrise.

It took her a few moments to remember where she was. At this hour the house was mostly quiet, although she could hear some of the inhabitants were already awake and at work.

Debating what to do, she finally settled on at least ascertaining the exact location of the coin for now. Maybe Pitti took it off at night? It was probably just jewelry and had no deeper meaning anyway.

Keep telling yourself that, _Grini_.

Io scowled. Merlin's Beard. What disastrous timing to grow a conscience.

She grabbed her wand und quietly uttered the charms; concealment, inaudibility, untraceability. Lock, stock and barrel.

Then she got up and silently crept toward the next room, the kitchen, where she came to sudden a halt. Pitti sat at the kitchen table, seemingly lost in thought, coin visible on his chest.

Io went through her options.

She could just leave, sod Maria and her empty threats. Although who knew what the old witch might have in store for her.

She could creep backwards, break her charms to then join Pitti in the kitchen and try another time. However the longer she stayed, the greater the risk someone found out what she was up to.

Or she could knock him out, take the coin and make a run for it. A quick Stupefy would hardly do much damage.

None of those particularly appealed to her, however the third option grew on Io as the seconds passed by. At least that would be it.

She raised her wand.

"Rusalka*, I know you're there."

Blimey. Her concealment charms needed some work.

Pitti turned his head and looked straight at her with a grin.

"Come sit."

When Io hesitated, he sighed.

"We know the Gadje* are full of suspicion of your kind, but we know better."

Pitti grabbed the coin around his neck and pulled the necklace off. He considered it quietly.

"It protects you from the things that crawl in the night. But it has to be given, not taken."

Io looked on in disbelief as Pitti offered it to her.

* * *

Hungary, November 1987.

The sun was up when Io landed on solid ground and she could hear church bells ringing. Right when one was about the end, another picked up, to be repeated by yet another and so on.

Ah, Szentendre… Io smiled knowingly.

Why the muggles would go and build not two, not three but seven churches in such a small town was beyond her.

Maybe they too were scared of the things that crawled in the night.

Io toyed with the coin now resting on her chest and sighed.

She started downhill towards the small baroque town and made an effort to shake off the glum thoughts. Io swore she could almost smell the delicious strudel Ferenc would have for breakfast.

There was a lot to be desired in her lifestyle, but every once in awhile she got to see a friendly face. And those days were to be cherished, not tainted by worries small or big.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Glossary:
> 
> ¿Cómo se dice? (phrase) = Spanish for "How does one say?"
> 
> Danagadas (potion ingredient)= A green powder mix of various herbs local only to the Niger sahara, known to stimulate the inner eye.
> 
> Dhahaviringi Potion (potion)= a thick golden potion used to reverse or temporarily contain curse damage (depending on the strength of the curse treated), very volatile and with quite a short half-life period. Originating from the Great Rift Valley in Ethiopia, few potioneers are knowledgeable enough to brew it. The Afar Potioneer Society has however in recent years managed to make great advances, mainly credited to famed potion mistress Zema Einku Tamrat of the Afar College of Potent Arts.
> 
> Demiguise pelts (potion ingredient)= The pelt of the Demiguise creature (see Fantastic Beasts for further information). The Demiguise can only be caught during its several week long rest after mating in early September. Its pelt is very rare and a sought after, since its hair is both used for various potions as well as spun into Invisibility Cloaks.
> 
> Erumpent exploding fluid (potion ingredient)= The exploding fluid contained in the horns of the African Erumpent (see Fantastic Beasts for further information). It is even rarer than the powdered horn because it evaporates quickly after the beast's death.
> 
> Gadje (noun, pl.) = Romani word for either those who are not Romani by birth, or do not live in Romani culture.
> 
> Nion's Compass (artefact) = A famed artefact long believed to be lost, that exhibits extraordinary powers in transporting a wizard from any place to another, regardless of distance or wards in place to prevent apparition. It is however highly temperamental and never bows to a wizard's will, but its own idea of where they should go.
> 
> It is made of silver, approximately 50 mm wide and 10mm thick. The compass rose is blue ink on white parchment, magically protected to withstand the wear of time. The centre of it shows a triskelion, a celtic symbol. The silver needle does not indicate north and south, but Alpha and Omega. On its backside three words are engraved in gaelic language: An láthreacht Dé which translates to The Presence of God.
> 
> ¿Nos excusan? (phrase) = Spanish for "Will you excuse us?"
> 
> Occamy egg shells (potion ingredient)= Shells of the soft silver eggs of the far-eastern mythical creature(see Fantastic Beasts for further information), a very rare potion ingredient with blood purifying properties.
> 
> Philippian Dagger (artefact)= Supposedly named after the so-called suicide of Marcus Brutus at the second battle of Philippi on October 23, 42 BC. It was the very same dagger he had used to kill Julius Caesar several months prior, unknowing that the dagger was cursed and would in time turn on him. Whether these are in fact the artefact's origins is debateable, however the cursed object is guaranteed to turn on the assassin after the deed and has been used several times in the course of wizarding history in order to guarantee the hired assassin's silence.
> 
> Rusalka (magical creature)= Slavic name for water nymph, also by extension used for half-breeds and/or those of nymph descent. As with most cultures slavic folklore regards them as evil female spirits that would lure unsuspecting men to their death and their rights have been heavily restricted in the Soviet Union in recent years. Even though knowledge to the contrary exists, stigma prevails similar to that of giant ancestry, e.g. it being used as a slur among slavic wizardkind for a woman of questionable morals.
> 
> Saffronore (potion ingredient) = Powder made of the crystalline growths on the magical Saffrocrocus bulbs, not to be confused with the common saffron crocus. The Saffrocrocus requires very distinct climatic and auratic conditions to grow and can only be harvested once a year at the end of October by the hands of an experienced herbologist, because of its highly poisonous and vindictive nature. It is known to enhance the properties of most potions, turning these into powerful concentrates.
> 
> Syrian rue (potion ingredient)= The juice of its root is used in most strengthening and replenishing potions, it is also known to have been one of the key ingredients of the ancient "Soma" potion, whose exact recipe unfortunately has been long lost.
> 
> Thank you for reading!


End file.
